


Loaded Die

by ChloShow



Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Gen, Period-Typical Racism, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 15:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5211401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloShow/pseuds/ChloShow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strange interaction that occurs while Hanzee's on guard duty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loaded Die

He mainly volunteered for guard duty to get away from everyone else.  The fellas in his platoon were nice enough, but you could tell they were all scared shitless.  They bonded very well in the way that cattle make friends before slaughter.  Any time they all got together, no matter what they were doing, felt like they were having a funeral. 

Growing up with death had pushed a sharp wedge between him and most of the others.  Some, like Private Hendricks whose mother had died of the flu when he was 12, had brushes with death, but nothing like what Hanzee had experienced with the Gerhardts. No one else had yet become alienated from death as a concept.

Boots shuffled across dirt underneath the sounds of merrymaking.  Someone was approaching from inside the camp.  He would’ve thought Nichols was there to annoy him again with drunk card tricks, but the footsteps were too measured, the silhouette too tall.

“You’re Dent, right?” 

“The others just call me ‘the Indian,’” he recognized this kid.  He had angular hair and a goofy smile.  Nothing about him could distinguish him in a crowd, and from what he’d observed, this guy was always on the edges of the group, laughing.

“I’m sure that’s not your preferred title, but who am I to assume?”  His eyes were bright in the sparse light, even playful.  He wasn’t wearing any clear identifying information, only a white cotton t-shirt, dog tags, and fatigue bottoms.

“Dent’s fine.”

“Listen, Dent, I’ll cut the bullshit. I know you killed Sumner yesterday,” the kid looked the same, but he had abandoned some sort of guise that transformed him from square to menace at the drop of a hat.

“Charlie killed Sumner.  Shot him up and slit his throat.”

“I’m not here to snitch on you, Dent. We all knew Sumner gave you a hard time, only I connected the dots,” he smiled, and Hanzee felt compelled to incline his head in response. 

The stranger continued, “I’d really like to work with you after this war.  That is…barring either of us survives.  But if I were a betting man, and I don’t leave much up to chance, but if I _did_ , I’d bet we’re the two most likely candidates to get out of here alive.”

“Who are you?”  If the guy was trying to catch Hanzee’s attention, he certainly had it.

“Like ‘what is my name?’  Or ‘what is my profession?’”

“Both.”

“To the point.  I value that in a conversation partner.  Well, my name is Malvo, and my job back in the ol’ U. S. of A. is exactly what we’re doing right now here in the middle of this humid fucking jungle.  I kill people for a living, and from what I’ve seen of you, we share a job description.”

Hanzee wasn’t about to forsake the Gerhardts to accept a new job offer.  As far as he knew, his contract with that family was for life.  Besides, what the fuck did he know about this punk anyway other than the fact he completely believed he had killed people outside of Vietnam.

“Malvo,” he drew up to his full height, projecting a mix of respect and authority upon this man who was probably 10 years his junior, “I don’t trust you.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Ace,” Malvo had expected such a response from a ‘seasoned veteran’ of their profession, “If I were to kill you, I wouldn’t stab you in the back.  You have my word.” 

The younger man gave a small wave to Hanzee before returning to the camp, once more donning sheep’s clothing.

***

Lorne Malvo was officially declared K.I.A. three weeks later.  Coincidentally, the same explosion said to have killed Malvo had also decimated their commanding officer.  Hanzee knew enough not to believe in chance.

 


End file.
